


Tequila Sunrise

by lordmxrphy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 05:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5955364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordmxrphy/pseuds/lordmxrphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"After way too much tequila I tried to hook up with you but instead you tucked me in and brought me coffee in the morning”</p><p>based on the prompt <a href="http://lnctavias.tumblr.com/">lnctavias</a> sent in ages ago on tumblr:)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tequila Sunrise

Miller has no fucking idea when his tolerance got so low. Or maybe it’s just the fact that he was drinking _fucking tequila_ that killed his tolerance. But no matter what the reason, all Miller knows is that he had way too much to drink last night and now he’s paying the price. 

His mouth is dry and full of that disgusting stale taste that only comes after a night of drinking. His head is pounding and he stares at the ceiling willing to room to stop spinning. He is not going to throw up. He is _not_. 

On the third try, he manages to sit up. And that’s when he realizes he’s not in his room. Memories trickle back slowly, trying to put together the night before feels like trudging through sludge. His recollections come with a tequila filter. 

He remembers the places they went, but not much of the transitions in between. He remembers starting the night by taking shots with Clarke and Wells at their apartment using the tequila Raven gave Miller for his birthday. He remembers ending up at Taco Bell. He remembers eating fucking Taco Bell. (Ugh, he should _not_ think about burritos right now.) He remembers Clarke calling Bellamy at some point and the next thing he remembers is Bellamy corralling him, Clarke, and Wells into his car outside. He doesn’t remember very much else after that, but he vaguely recalls sitting on the floor of Bellamy’s apartment that he shared with Monty. _Monty. Fuck._

He glances around the room, taking note of the Star Wars posters and recognizing one of the t-shirts piled in a heap by the bed. 

_He’s in Monty’s room._

Miller knows he’s alone, but he turns around to check that the bed is empty anyway. All he finds are the rumpled sheets and a single head indent in the pillow. Based on the evidence, Miller figures Monty let him sleep in here and crashed somewhere else. But that still leaves the question: _where the hell was Monty?_

Miller briefly wonders if he said the words out loud when right after his thought, there’s a soft tap on the door and it cracks open to reveal black hair, kind eyes, and a fond smile. 

Monty comes in holding a tall glass of water and what Miller assumes is aspirin. He doesn’t ask, though, just swallows the pills and gulps down the entire glass of water when Monty hands it to him. 

“How are you feeling?" 

“Like shit,” Miller’s words come out scratchy and low. He clears his throat. 

Monty chuckles and sits down beside Miller on the bed. _His bed_ , Miller reminds himself. 

“How much do you remember about last night?" 

“I think I remember most of it,” Miller says, rubbing a hand over his face, embarrassed that Monty saw him as drunk as he did. 

“So you remember Bellamy driving you guys over here?" 

Miller nods. He has a fuzzy recollection of Clarke with her feet on Bellamy’s dash, singing along terribly to the radio while Bellamy kept glancing over at her, a fond smile on his lips. Wells had sat in the back with Miller, his head pressed against the cool window, eyes drooping as he nearly fell asleep.

“What about getting into an argument with Clarke over whether Rey or young Han Solo would win in a fight?" 

Miller smiles despite himself. The memory is sticky, but he remembers. 

“I still think Rey could kick anyone’s ass,” he says, rubbing his forehead trying to ease the ache behind his eyes. 

“And do you remember telling me that you thought I was cute and that I deserved a cute boyfriend?" 

Miller’s head snaps up. He glances at Monty, his heart in his throat. Monty’s watching Miller with careful eyes, looking serious despite the teasing, half-smile on his lips. 

Miller tries to remember, recalling flashes of Monty’s smile, the smell of his shampoo, the soft press of his shirt against Miller’s cheek, but the full memory evades his grasp. Blurry and indistinct. 

“Did I really say that?" 

Monty nods slowly, “You also told me that you wished you could be my cute boyfriend,” Miller's eyes stray to Monty’s throat as he swallows, “You said you wanted to hold my hand, bring me pizza and Mountain Dew when I was sad, and give me the best orgasm of my life.” 

Miller chokes at the last part. Monty's cheeks are red, but he doesn’t look away, his eyes tracing Miller’s face, obviously trying to gauge his reaction. 

“I said all that?” Miller's voice comes out quietly, barely above a whisper. He can barely feel the hangover anymore, the nerves and adrenaline making his heart race and his palms sweat. 

Miller licks his lips and he notices how Monty’s eyes drop and linger there. 

He figures at this point he has nothing to lose. 

“That’s all still true, you know,” he says, his heart beating loud enough to drown out all sound. 

The few seconds he waits for Monty’s response feel like an eternity. 

But the minutes after he spends tangled with Monty, his hands in his hair and their lips chasing one another’s makes every heartsick, hungover moment leading up to this one worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to, feel free to send me prompts on [my tumblr](http://antebellamy.tumblr.com/tagged/prompts), I can't promise that they will be written in a timely fashion, but I will do my best to fill them!
> 
> Oh, and don't forget to leave kudos and a comment letting me know what you thought!


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